


Your Cooler, Or Mine?

by spandwiches



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Baker!Dean, Florist!Castiel, M/M, Valentine's Day, Work place romance, grocery store au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-21 00:52:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14273382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spandwiches/pseuds/spandwiches
Summary: Usually Castiel loves his position as Head Florist, but Valentine’s day means needy customers, excessive markups, and working long hours. Fortunately it also means working in close proximity to the sexy baker he's been sneaking glances at from across the store. Dean's going to be chocolate dipping strawberries right in front of him all day long, and it might just drive Castiel to distraction. Or provide him with a reason to finally have a conversation with Dean, and maybe more.





	Your Cooler, Or Mine?

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Dean/Cas Midwinter Trope Fest 5k. Who knew it was so hard to keep a whole weeks worth of flirtation under 5000 words!
> 
> A big thank you to all the challenge mods, who were as kind, patient, encouraging and awesome as ever.
> 
> Most of all thanks to [60r3d0m](https://archiveofourown.org/users/60r3d0m/pseuds/60r3d0m) for being an awesome beta and so much fun to chat with.

[](https://imgur.com/a/tEW3c)

**Monday**

Castiel sliced the tape sealing the box and flipped open the lid.

Yet more red roses.

He already had thorns embedded in three fingers from putting bouquets together all morning.

Usually, he loved his position as Head Florist, but Valentine’s day meant needy customers, excessive markups, and working long hours. Granted, his two assistants were also working their butts off to get everything ready, but Castiel had started at seven that morning and wasn’t even close to being finished unpacking the mountain of freight which had arrived overnight.

His watch read 4:30pm. If he really hauled ass, he might be able to leave at six. He couldn’t ask Hannah to stay later than five, and Alfie had left at three, already having worked well beyond his scheduled shift. Castiel wanted to have everything unpacked and organized for tomorrow: the last mad rush of preparation before the big day.

His gaze involuntarily sought out the bakery counter while his mind wandered. It was a little ways across the store, past the deli. He knew Dean had already left for the day — the baker had winked at Castiel as he’d sauntered through the floral department on his way out. Castiel had blushed and caught his thumb on a particularly vicious rose stem, effectively stopping any further interaction that he may have gathered the courage for. Which had yet to be any at all.

Sure, their gazes seemed to connect during the morning staff briefings, and there were nodded acknowledgements when their paths crossed. They had been formally introduced and even shook hands when Dean had joined the store as the new bakery manager last month, but since then it had just been stolen glances on Castiel’s part. And an increase in minor work related injuries caused by the distraction Dean provided walking past at different points each morning.

He sighed and carried the box of roses to the small floral cooler in their equally small stockroom, and set it on a shelf with several other boxes of cut flowers.

Yes, Castiel hated Valentine’s day.

 

**Tuesday**

He couldn’t help but smile at the piped hearts decorating the mini cupcakes. Usually Castiel would find them tacky, but knowing that they were Dean’s handiwork seemed to have a strange effect on him.

“Good, you’re here.”

Castiel’s attention snapped to the store manager.

“As soon as you’re on the clock, we need to talk,” Crowley said brusquely before strutting off and leaving Castiel with the cupcakes.

He did as he’d been asked and headed straight to Crowley’s office, only to find that Dean was there.

“Ah, yes, Castiel. I was just telling Dean that I want to try something a little different this year, to boost Valentine’s revenue for both your departments.”

Castiel bristled slightly at the implication that he needed Crowley’s help to make holiday sales successful, and judging by the set of his lightly stubbled jaw, Dean presumably felt the same.

Crowley continued, either ignoring or missing the tension in the room: “Chocolate dipped strawberries.” 

Castiel and Dean exchanged blank glances with each other while Crowley looked at them expectantly before sighing.

“We’re going to set up a stand in front of the floral counter, so that customers can sample the strawberries while they wait for their bouquets to be wrapped. Dean will man the stand, dipping on demand.”

Castiel found himself getting distracted by the thought of Dean _dipping on demand_ , but Crowley was still talking: “Castiel’s job, apart from the bouquets and wrapping, of course, will be to make sure that every customer knows about the strawberries and to inform them of the offer.”

“What offer?” Dean cut in. He seemed skeptical of the plan; his green eyes narrowed and his arms folded across his chest, making the muscles in his forearms stand out appealingly. Castiel was finding it difficult not to stare at them.

Crowley effectively cut into his daydreams again: “Ten percent off a purchase of chocolate dipped strawberries when you buy any bouquet or arrangement from the floral department.”

Dean scrunched up his nose, but nodded, and Castiel had to agree that this was one of Crowley’s better ideas. Not in the least because it would put him in very close proximity to Dean tomorrow.

“I want this all set up and running this afternoon so that we can catch any eager beavers picking up V-Day purchases in the after-work rush,” Crowley concluded.

Scratch that. Dean would continue to be in his close proximity as of—well, really soon.

“So who will be doing the dipping tonight?” Dean’s question made Castiel increasing hot under the collar. “It’ll take a little time to show someone how it’s done.” Good lord, was the man trying to kill him?

“You can’t do it yourself?” Crowley’s tone suggested that this was a rhetorical question.

“I’ve been here since four a.m.” Dean’s response was flat with irritation.

“Staying a little later would probably be more time-effective than training someone else though, don’t you think? And staying late is sometimes what a manager needs to do, Dean.”

Dean seemed ready to argue, but Crowley’s phone began ringing and he waved them away as he answered it.

They headed back out to the sales floor together.

“Fucking cheek, he knows I’m supposed to finish at two,” Dean practically hissed, but loudly enough so that only Castiel could hear, “but that I’m not going to kick up a fuss because—for once—he’s had a pretty damn good idea. And if it means I end up with overtime pay, all the better.”

He looked across at Castiel and smiled broadly. Good lord, the man was attractive. Castiel coughed a little, more to clear his head than his throat. “Um, do you need help moving anything over or getting the table set up?”

“Nah, Cas, I got this. You’ve got enough on your plate today.” 

Dean smiled again as Castiel nodded vigorously. “I was anticipating being somewhat busy today, yes.”

“I’ll get a couple of my gals and guys to help me with the heavy lifting. Should be pretty straightforward to set up, and I’ll just try to keep out of your way.” Dean bumped Castiel gently with his elbow and slipped into the bakery area, smiling still. “See you later, Cas!”

Castiel was counting on it.

 

**Wednesday**

It was six o’clock when Castiel arrived at the store the next morning. There were several things he hadn’t managed to finish up yesterday. Trying to be productive with Dean so tantalizing close had been nigh impossible, and Castiel was only too aware that he was going to have to rely on muscle memory, adrenaline, and perfect preparation if he was going to make it through today.

He spent the two hours before the store opened making sure that everything was as ready as it could possibly be, pointedly not looking toward the front of the department where he was all too aware of the man setting up his own station for the day ahead.

And then the blur began: a whirl of customers, flowers, and printed hearts; instructing Alfie to cut more ribbon; asking Hannah to take over wrapping bouquets so he could take a moment to restock the long-stem roses.

“Seems way crazier than last year.” Dean was suddenly beside him, holding two large white tubs.

“Yes, and I am asking every customer if they’ve sampled the strawberries and letting them know about the promotion.” Castiel nervously fumbled a rose stem and was hugely relieved he’d striped them of thorns yesterday.

“I don’t doubt it! Have you had a chance to try them?”

Castiel was caught off guard by the question and looked up at Dean. “No. No, why would I have sampled them? I’m not buying flowers.”

“But you _are_ selling them. You can’t sing the praises of something you’ve never tasted yourself. Come on.” Dean took Castiel by the elbow and directed him over to the makeshift dipping station. “White, milk, or dark chocolate?”

“Dark, please?” Castiel wasn’t sure why he’d made it sound like a question, but he was suddenly terribly anxious for Dean to approve of his opinions. He didn’t usually eat sweet things, so he wanted to choose the variety he was most likely to genuinely enjoy.

Any anxiety was quickly forgotten watching Dean select a voluptuous strawberry from the cool box and carefully dip it into a small slow cooker filled with, presumably, dark chocolate. He then laid it on a silicon mat, added an artistic drizzle of white frosting and some heart shaped sprinkles, before carefully setting it in on a paper round and handing it to Castiel.

“Tuh-dah! Fresh off the production line and made just for you.”

“It’s quite a work of art, Dean.”

“Just eat it already, would ya?”

Castiel bit into the strawberry, enjoying the way Dean’s gaze followed the fruit to his lips and stayed fixed there. 

It was divine. The almost bitter, crispy chocolate surround contrasted superbly with the soft sweetness of the strawberry. Castiel realized that juice was dripping, and tried desperately to lick at the drips as they escaped down his chin. Shit, was Dean licking his lips in response? Castiel reached for a paper towel, turning away to dab at the his chin just as much as to hide his blush. 

“I can now confidently inform customers that the strawberries are delicious, Dean.”

Delicious Dean was about right. He could feel the heat in his ears and on the back of his neck and knew he was blushing.

“Looks like I’m going to need to go back over to my cooler and get more dipping chocolate again then.” Dean was pouring the last crumbs from a big white tub into one of the slow cookers. “Been lugging them back and forth all morning.”

“You could put some in the floral cooler if you’d like,” Castiel offered. “That way you’d be able to bring several tubs over in a cart and would only have to get them from my stockroom.”

Dean’s face lit up. 

“That would be great, yeah. Thanks, Cas!” He hurried off to find a cart, and Castiel headed to the cooler to clear some space for Dean and to ensure it was tidy.

♥♥♥

“Excuse me, do you have any more irises?”

Castiel looked up from the bouquet he was currently arranging. The lilies and roses were an excellent choice together and he hoped his customer’s Valentine would appreciate the combination as much as he did.

“I believe that’s our last bunch.”

A deep sigh came from the woman who had spoken.

“These were between buckets. I’m not sure how long they’d been there, but they are a little wilted. They’re my husband’s absolute favourite, but I got caught up with my final patient and couldn’t get out any earlier to make sure I got some.”

Castiel carefully banded the bouquet and set it down to give the Iris woman his full attention. She was wearing hospital scrubs with little purple hearts on.

“May I?” He gestured to the bunch of flowers.

They were definitely beginning to wilt, but would probably perk back up with two inches off the stems and then straight into fresh water. He told the woman as much.

“It would be sad for your husband not to have irises, and I’d be more than happy to discount them for you as this is our last bunch.”

The woman beamed. “Oh! That would be wonderful, yes. Thank you so much.”

Castiel set about preparing the flowers and scanning them to mark down when another voice cut into his focus.

“Where are the daffodils?”

“I’m so sorry, we sold out of daffodils yesterday.”

“Well, I came in here last Thursday and was told you would have them this week.” The voice was shrill and grated on what little remained of Castiel’s patience.

“Yes, and we got two crates in on Monday. All one hundred sixty bunches sold in thirty-six hours.” Castiel hoped that was sufficient an explanation to get rid of the voice.

“Well, you clearly should have ordered more!” 

He looked up and saw that the voice belonged to a man somewhat shorter and older than him, with curling hair and a sneer on his face.

“Sir, the orders were placed—” 

The man began to walk away raising his arm and showing his palm to Castiel in a completely dismissive gesture.

“No need to be so rude.” Dean’s voice from the other side of the floral counter was loud enough for Castiel to hear, and definitely loud enough for the customer to hear. “It’s nearly seven p.m. on Valentine’s day, for Pete’s sake. We’re out of red roses, out of carnations, out of tulips, we’ve just sold the last bunch of irises despite them being wilted and you’re complaining about there being no damn daffodils. In February. It snowed last week, man. There are no damn daffodils.”

Castiel put his head down to hide his smile. Dean would get an earful from Crowley when that customer complained, but Castiel couldn’t help the feeling of joy that spread through him at the knowledge that not only had Dean defended him, but knew what Castiel had been dealing with all afternoon long. 

He thanked him once the store had finally closed.

“The guy was a douche, Cas. He had no right getting after you, not after everything you did for all those people today.”

“It’s just my job, Dean. That’s what florists do on Valentine’s day.”

“But you made everyone feel like their case was special. Everyone you helped today, you talked to them, helped them pick out flowers and feel like they were choosing something that would be the most perfect thing for whoever it was they were buying for. You made it more than a stupid made-up commercial holiday for those people. So no, Cas, that isn’t just what florists do on Valentine’s day. Florists just sell flowers. It’s what _you_ do. Everyday. I’ve seen you do it.”

Castiel was staring at him wide-eyed. It was the most he’d ever heard him say, and Dean was talking about _him_ , things he’d noticed about Castiel.

“You’ve seen me.” Castiel dropped his eyes hurriedly and focussed on the handle of the broom he had stopped sweeping with. He hadn’t really meant to say that out loud. 

“Well yeah, of course I’ve seen you. You’re sort of hard to not see.” Dean shoved him playfully with his shoulder.

He looked up again to find green eyes and a smile. It took a minute to register that he was smiling too, and that Dean was looking straight back at him.

“Dean, I’d like to speak to you briefly.” 

Crowley. 

King of killing the moment, Castiel thought as Dean’s smile dropped and he gave him an apologetic look as he turned away.

Castiel finished sweeping the sales area and behind the counter. He was hanging up the broom and dustpan in the stockroom when the door swung open.  


“Are you in here, Castiel?” The stockroom door swung open revealing an annoyed looking Crowley. 

They sprang apart guiltily. 

“Oh, hey, thanks for these!” Dean grabbed the broom and dustpan from his hands and quickly made for the door, leaving Castiel alone to deal with Crowley, again the King of Interruptions.

 

**Thursday**

Castiel heard the chirp of the door and looked up, only to be disappointed yet again that the employee entering was not Dean. It was driving him crazy. Even when Dean went late to lunch, he was always back by now. Castiel looked at his watch yet again.

Dean had said they had a _thing_ and Castiel needed to see him to confirm that meant what he’d thought it had meant. He’d felt certain that Dean had wanted him to make a move before Crowley had interrupted them, but later that night he’d found himself unsure.

He tried to distract himself with the task of marking down some small arrangements, and smiled as he remembered Hannah making them. She’d done a great job getting them all identical: setting the same flowers in each vase just so, and meticulously hand tying a pink ribbon on each little milk jar. Castiel would definitely ask her to assist him with the arrangements for the wedding they’d been asked to do at the beginning of April. She’d be able to produce a whole set of perfectly matched boutonnière for the eight groomsmen.

Not the bouquet though. That was his absolute favorite part. He always tried to picture the person he was making it for: how they would hold it, if they would be nervous, or excited, or serenely calm. It all played in to his design and construction, the careful placement of each bloom and branch. He would try and put himself into the mindset of his client. How it would feel to be walking down the aisle, or simply standing before friends and family. Either way, about to announce your commitment to the one other person whom you loved above all others.

Dean’s face came unbidden into his thoughts and Castiel couldn’t help smiling as he let himself indulge in the fantasy for a moment.

“You know about these?” A customer’s voice dragged him back to the present.

“What can I help with?” The man was holding a bunch of orange spray roses, one of Castiel’s favorite varieties. “Those are a wonderful choice, Sir.”

“Are they on sale?”

“No, that’s the regular price. But ten stems for seven dollars is really good value.” Castiel stuck a markdown sticker on the last of Hannah’s milk jug arrangements.

“The sign says that roses are fifty percent off today,” the customer continued.

“Yes, that refers to all our long-stem roses. I believe we still have a dozen in orange if that’s the color you would like?”

“But these are roses.”

“Spray roses, yes. Or they are sometimes referred to as garden roses.”

“So why aren’t they on sale also?”

“They’re not part of our Valentine’s—” The man’s expression ended Castiel’s attempt to explain. He took a deep breath in. “Yes, Sir. I can see how the sign is misleading. Here,” he beckoned for the bunch of flowers, “let me mark those down for you.” Crowley would probably be annoyed by this, Castiel thought, but receiving a negative customer feedback comment would annoy him far more.

It was the part of the job he found the most challenging; his people skills were rusty, at best, and he often found himself trying to decide on the course of action that would incur the most minimal amount of Crowley’s wrath. If only he could be more like Dean— all charm and ease and smiles. Customers loved him, his staff respected him, even Crowley seemed to fall under Dean’s charm. Castiel admired his customer service skills and work ethic as much as he did Dean’s dazzling smile and pert behind.

Good lord, he was easily distracted today. God knows he needed his day off tomorrow. Day off! Of course. It was Dean’s day off.

Now Castiel could stop worrying about where he was and get on with his tasks. Except now he needed to see Dean, to take the next step and hopefully put to rest the demons telling him that yesterday had been just his wishful thinking.

If Dean was off today, and Castiel didn’t work tomorrow, that would mean waiting until Saturday before they’d have the chance to talk again. No. That wouldn’t do at all. If today’s distractedness was anything to go by, it was clear that Castiel needed some sort of resolution fast if he was to ever be a productive, functional entity again. He was going to have to do the thing he hated doing most of all: come to the store on his day off and grocery shop.

 

**Friday**

“Watch where you’re going, sonny!”

“Oh, excuse me. I’m so sorry.” Castiel attempted to disentangle his shopping cart from that of the woman’s he’d just run into.

These things were surprisingly unwieldy. It didn’t help that the white-knuckle grip he had on the handle seemed to make the cart skitter in an even less predictable way than usual. So far he’d picked up coffee, whole milk, a bottle of Laphroaig, bran flakes and bananas. He couldn’t really start selecting dinner ingredients until he knew if he’d be cooking for one or two.

There was only one solution.

He headed towards the bakery counter where Garth was enthusiastically taking down an order for a kids’ birthday cake.

“I’ll be right with you, Sir.” Garth shifted his attention momentarily from the order pad. “Oh, hey Castiel! Good to see you, dude. Give me just a minute.”

“Don’t worry, man,” Dean said, clapping Garth on the shoulder as he came up behind him and addressed Castiel. “Hey Cas. What can I get you?”

Dean’s smile was broad enough to produce the little crinkles at the corner of his eyes that made Castiel want to taste them.

“A pie please, Dean.”

Another dazzling grin. “Excellent choice. I got cherry left from yesterday, and lemon meringue, then there’s apple fresh from today.”

Castiel took a deep breath, then began: “Well, I’m hoping to have a date, and I’m not sure what he likes best.” He looked into Dean’s eyes hoping he’d take the hint.

“A date?” Dean’s voice came out slightly higher than usual and Castiel watched his throat as he swallowed.

“Hopefully. He hasn’t confirmed yet.”

Dean said nothing, but raised his eyebrows.

“I thought perhaps buying his favorite pie might persuade him to have dinner with me.” Castiel allowed just a hint of a smile to show.

“Fresh apple pie would be all the persuading I’d need.”

“Apple it is then.”

Dean made no move to get the pie, just stood smiling at Castiel.

“Did you just ask me out, Cas?”

“Hopefully.”

Neither man looked away while Dean seemed to consider for a moment.

“I really shouldn’t.” Dean looked slightly annoyed.

“You shouldn’t?” Shit, had Castiel misread the signs? Was he in a relationship already? Did he have something against dating coworkers? Or maybe men? Castiel had assumed that Dean was bi, if not homosexual.

“Tonight,” Dean clarified, “I shouldn’t tonight. What with the four a.m. start to my workday tomorrow.”

Ah. Of course. Castiel let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“Tomorrow night?” Dean asked, smile blossoming again.

“Tomorrow night works wonderfully. I get off at six.” He guessed Dean probably knew this, seeing that all the managers’ schedules were posted in the office, but it seemed the appropriate thing to say.

“May I pick you up?”

“What, from work?” Castiel couldn’t tell if Dean was being serious or continuing to play along.

“Well, I don’t have your number, or your address, so maybe I could provide the pie and dinner, seems that you’ll be at work all afternoon and I’m done at two.”

“That doesn’t seem particularly fair, Dean. I was the one asking you on a date.”

“You can make it up to me.”

Castiel raised his eyebrows at the suggestion but simply said, “Well, thank you, Dean. That would be very pleasant.”

“Six o’clock tomorrow then?”

“Six o’clock tomorrow.”

 

**Saturday**

Dean leant against the floral counter looking— devastating was the only word that Castiel could come up with that captured the ‘I will ruin you for everyone else’ vibe that Dean was giving off.

It was almost 6:15 and Dean’s presence was definitely not helping him quickly finish _individually_ wrapping the thirty long-stem roses that this customer had insisted he needed ten minutes before Castiel should have been clocking out for the day.

As it was, he’d managed to tear three sheets of tissue, embed a thorn in his thumb causing him to bleed over yet another sheet of tissue, and completely snap not one, but two stems.

Finally he had all thirty roses wrapped, tied and handed to the customer to give to each of his dancers at their seven o’clock performance. At least Dean’s arrival had served to quiet the man’s chatter, even if it hadn’t had the same effect on Castiel’s nerves.

“I’m sorry. I’m rather a mess.” Castiel apologized as they walked across the parking lot. He had pollen stains on his button-down and sticky green plant matter caked into the knee of his black jeans. “I had planned to freshen up and change before the end of my shift but the man with the roses…” He trailed off, suddenly very aware of Dean’s gaze on him.

“Honestly, Cas, you could be wearing a flour sack and you’d still look hot.”

They stopped in front of a gleaming black expanse of car.

“This is yours?” 

Dean nodded in response to the question, his eyes still fixed on Castiel. 

Castiel couldn’t stop his hands from seeking out the smooth cool metal of the car and running his fingers back and forth across the surface all the while staring hungrily at its owner.

Dean shook himself and opened the passenger door, motioning for Castiel to get in.

Fortunately, the roomy interior of the car provided ample space to avoid physical contact and the short journey to his house enough of a distraction for Dean that the drive passed quickly. They were soon pulling into the garage adjoining a small one-storey weatherboard house.

“Home, sweet home.” Dean killed the engine.

That was more than enough invitation for Castiel. He was done watching, done waiting, done wanting. Now they were in private. Alone. Now Castiel could _have_.

He leant across and reached for Dean, pulling him into a kiss. Initially clumsy, Dean shifted positions slightly so that the kiss quickly became coordinated, passionate. Castiel cupped Dean’s jaw with one hand and tilted their heads to deepen it. Dean was so soft against him, his nose squashing into Castiel’s cheek as their lips molded together.

“Wanna come inside?” Dean whispered, pulling away momentarily, but not actually breaking contact.

“God, yes,” Castiel practically growled, hoping very much that Dean wasn’t just talking about the house.

 

**Sunday**

“What time is it?’ 

Dean lifted his head fractionally from the pillow of Castiel’s chest. “Don’t care.” He began trailing soft nibbling kisses across his pecs and down towards Castiel’s sternum. 

“Mmmmmm.” Castiel’s groan was far more pleasured than pissed off, despite there still being no sign of dawn beyond Dean’s partially closed blinds. He shifted a leg so that he could hook it over Dean’s bare thighs and pull him closer. Whatever Dean was currently doing with his teeth felt phenomenal on Castiel’s stomach and was definitely waking him up in more ways than one. “Just make sure I’m not late for work. Please. Dean.”

“I got ya, sunshine. I got ya.” Dean seemed to know exactly what Castiel was asking for, shifting positions and moving the kisses up to Castiel’s neck and then jaw. “There are benefits to being used to waking up at 3 a.m.” Dean whispered between kisses.

Castiel used the leverage of his leg over Dean’s to flip their positions, pinning Dean to the mattress and grinding their growing erections together. 

“I’m not generally a morning person, so I might need some persuading.” Dean squirmed delightfully beneath him and Castiel rewarded him by sucking a path of wet kisses up the column of his neck.

“Oh, I can be very persuasive.” Dean’s squirms became deliberate, sliding their cocks together deliciously.

Castiel didn’t think he’d be getting any more sleep, and didn’t mind in the least.

♥♥♥

“So how we gonna handle this tomorrow when we’re both at work?” Dean asked. They were still sat in the relative privacy of the big black car parked in a distant corner of the employee parking area. “’Cause personally, I’m ready to pipe it on every cupcake in the department. But I’m guessing Crowley has some strong opinions on workplace romances.”

Dean turned Castiel’s hand over in his own and began tracing patterns on the palm with his fingers as carefully as he would frost designs on the cakes he baked.

“We just have to be surreptitious about it.”

“Act like there is nothing going on while we’re at work?” Dean’s lip curled up in distaste. “Not gonna lie, Cas, I’m gonna find that pretty hard to do watching you bend down to stock those flower buckets and all.”

“Far from it. Trust me, Dean, I want to take every opportunity to pin you up against the stockroom shelves and steal kisses. We’re just going to need to keep those interactions inconspicuous. That way Crowley can’t stick his unwanted nose into business that most assuredly has nothing to do with him.” Castiel leaned across the space and placed a hand on Dean’s cheek and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “I want to keep you all to myself, Dean Winchester.”

Dean grinned and pulled Castiel closer, wrapping his arms around him. “So Cas, Monday morning: your cooler, or mine?”


End file.
